tagNon-Erotic PoetryReturning Home

Returning Home


Gravel beneath my shoes as I meander along my path
Cool winds chill my aching body
Silent eyes peer from square boxes as I pass
Pickups in the yard and animals astray

So begins the symphony of howls and barks
As I cross the threshold of their territory
Echoing past the swaying weeds and my steady progress
Beer cans and garbage litter the path along muddy water

The steady sound of my shoes hitting the pavement loud and annoying here
Brisk air easily inhales deeper, cooling me to the core
Cautious steps along the grass sinking into the moisture
A cross warns along the curve, a missed 'baby girl' for all to heed

Baby doe alone in a ditch, this death not unnoticed by me...
Death is rampant here, around every corner
Corpses of animals easy to find, as easy as the animals are in life...
Running free and wild across the land

Steady hum of joyous voices filter through the wind from atop the hill
A church being built for apparently here there are never enough.
Sad is the faith of these people, sad are many of them
Sad am I that cannot blindly follow and find such faith to comfort me

Pausing long enough to soak in my surroundings
Striking beauty surrounds me
Trees of stature and solitude creep nearer
I think and think, for that is what I do

And slowly the drops begin to fall
I am the black rain cloud, and how fitting it should be
Coolness raps my face as I struggle on
Stepping lightly as vehicles zoom past

I am alone, even the wind does not find me here
Only my breath makes a sound as I walk
With fury and determination
Expelling emotion with every step, freeing my mind

I walk with purpose and intent, I walk...for me
Turning around the sky turns dark, as if to comfort me
The wind finds me again, beckons me
Whispers sweet nothings down my spine

I could walk forever, never turn back
Carried lightly by my breeze
I find my way back to gravel and greet the road
Studying carefully the house before me

Full of life now, no longer alone
Glancing backward briefly and searching
Before stepping onto the porch...
Returning home.

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